Duck and Cover proclaimed, “We all know that the atomic bomb is very dangerous. Since it may be used against us at any time, we must get ready for it, just as we are ready for many other dangers that are around us all the time.”

Bert is seen, all told, for less than two minutes in Duck and Cover. He opens the film, skipping down a lane to his theme song. Bert is a goggle-eyed turtle dressed in a pith helmet, collar and bowtie. When a generic monkey (not the Red Bear) dangles a firecracker from a pole, Bert immediately drops and ducks into his shell upon seeing the flash. The scene is replayed over the opening narration, and the narrator coaxes Bert to come out and meet us.Bert shows again up at the end of the film, to remind us what to do in case Ivan sent nuclear hell streaking over the Arctic Circle. Bert was not particularly scary at all, but he became conflated in my mind with the rest of the film. Little wonder, considering that the live-action segments consisted of ominous threats combined with earnest-sounding lies.

Duck and Cover repeatedly made proclamations such as, “We all know that the atomic bomb is very dangerous. Since it may be used against us at any time, we must get ready for it, just as we are ready for many other dangers that are around us all the time.” Personally, my young mind could not conceive of anything worse.

“Sometimes,” intoned Mr. Middleton, “And this is very, very, important — the bomb may explode with no warning!” Tony, a young boy shown riding his bike knows that, “the bomb can explode any time of the year, day or night.” The film is a litany of terrifying messages, far too many to throw at kids in just nine minutes: “The atomic bomb flash could burn you, worse than a terrible sunburn.” “Always remember, the flash of an atomic bomb can come at any time, no matter where you may be.” Then, the most blood-chilling message of all: “There might not be any grown-ups around when the bomb explodes. Then, you’re on your own.”

On our own indeed. We, the children, were now mere afterthoughts in the minds of political leaders who had gone insane. Thermonuclear gunslingers were playing brinksmanship with the world, and we had cap guns, stuffed animals, and pull-string talking dolls.Our childhoods were going up in a fireball along with our homes, moms, dads and teachers. What did we kids do to deserve this? What could we do but listen to Bert? However, Bert was as crazy as Khrushchev, Castro or any of the other frightening names coming out of our TV sets and transistor radios. He was lying to us, and we knew it.

Screenwriter Ray Mauer (left) and exec producer Leo Langlois met up with an assistant headmistress from Virginia, by the name of Helen Seth-Smith, who conducted the “duck and cover” drills at her school.

We were children, but we were not stupid. We had grown up with drills, Civil Defense and CONELRAD (our purported early warning system). Duck and Cover portrayed kids rolling themselves up against walls, ducking under desks, and cowering beneath their seats in a school bus that was unfortunate enough to be on the road when Armageddon began. A family having an outing ducks and covers using a newspaper and the picnic blanket.

Sure. We knew that the bomb would turn Boston into a radioactive crater, and that no kid could run fast or far enough to get away in time. If Kennedy and Khrushchev pushed it far enough, we were going to die before Wagon Train came on the next week. We weren’t going to make it to rock and roll, Chevys, or our first kisses. Put your crew-cut head between your chubby legs and kiss your little butt goodbye — they have angels up there just for us young’uns, and they are rehearsing their lines right now.

My mouth was dry a lot of the time after I saw Duck and Cover. My hands shook, and I felt like I wanted to cry. When my concerned father asked me what was wrong, he was unprepared for the panicked rush of words that I finally released. He told me not to worry, but what else was there to say? The next day the Soviets caved, and the fingers under the ignition switches relaxed. I didn’t. For the rest of my childhood I, and many of my friends, lived under the reality that the bomb was no longer an abstract threat.